


In Love Even As In Battle

by gravidure



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Childbirth, Fluid Sparkling Support, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mech Preg, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 23:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19072570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravidure/pseuds/gravidure
Summary: Ultra Magnus is baffled when Sixshot willingly surrenders himself to be captured, and is only more baffled when he finds out he has one more prisoner than expected.





	In Love Even As In Battle

**Author's Note:**

> So, like, I heard we're shipping this now?

Magnus marched down the hallway, shocked at himself at how furious he was. He tried to reason with it, but as with most emotions, it defied categorization. Perhaps it stemmed from his confusion. It had been a confusing day. After all, Magnus was hardly used to Phase Sixers simply up and surrendering. If he was honest with himself, he would have to admit that he’d been a bit off-kilter ever since Sixshot had shown up unprompted and surrendered all of his weapons, without so much as a word of explanation.

Of course he had suspected it was a trap or a trick of some kind. Obviously there had to be a catch. But when he’d sent Ratchet to examine him, he had never expected…

He barged his way into the brig, whipping around to shout at his captive without any sort of preamble. “Carrying?”

Sixshot was lounging in his cell, sitting on the floor rather than negotiate the provided bench that was, admittedly, more suited to a smaller mech. In addition to being stripped of his weapons, he had also been separated from his face mask, for once making his expressions easily readable. He had been staring blankly at the wall, before Magnus drew his eyes over. The outburst didn’t provoke any kind of great reaction, no smug smile or fearful glace. Maybe just a hint of surprise, though that seemed in line with having someone so suddenly burst in. His lips, notched on one side from a scar, twisted slightly, somewhat thoughtful. “That was fast. Ratchet only left like… actually, I have no concept of time in here. I thought it was, like, five minutes, but…”

“Carrying?” Magnus repeated, with as much heat as before.

Sixshot blinked. “I mean, like… are you asking how? Because it’s like…” He made a twisting gesture with his hands, which then ended up with one thumb and forefinger in an ‘O’ and the pointer finger of the other gently teasing at the ring. “I mean, I thought Autobots knew about that too, but…”

“I—” Magnus growled and waved his hands. “Stop doing that!”

“But you _do_ know what sex is, right? It’s important to me that you know—” 

“Shut up!”

Sixshot’s lopsided smirk was insufferable.

“Do you have any idea how this complicates things?” Magnus asked.

Sixshot blinked, then leaned forward. “I’m sorry, are you complaining about how _me_ being _your_ prisoner is inconvenient for _you_?”

“I knew this was a trap somehow,” Magnus muttered, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the cell. “And I still don’t know how, but there’s no way this is a coincidence.”

Sixshot sat back, crossing his arms. “Wow, I cannot _wait_ to hear how getting taken as a prisoner of war while carrying is going to destroy the Autobots from the inside.”

Magnus stopped, groaning up at the ceiling. “You don’t understand. Prowl was already drawing up papers to get you shipped off to a more secure facility. But now there are different considerations. Standards of care that must be met.”

“Tyrest Accord, Section 63, Paragraph 5?”

Magnus turned a glare at him, to which Sixshot only shrugged.

“What? I can read,” Sixshot said. “It’s available to both sides, you know.”

“So this was premeditated,” Magnus grumbled.

Sixshot waved his hands in a windshield-wiper-like motion. “I mean, knowing the law isn’t a crime, right?”

“You’ve committed a lot of crimes,” Magnus said, jabbing a finger at the force field between them, stopping just short of getting shocked.

“Yeah, but someone in this cell hasn’t.”

Magnus glared.

Sixshot shrugged.

“So that’s it?” Magnus asked. “Nothing to say for yourself.”

“I mean, I don’t really get the sense that’s gonna help anything, judging from…” He waved a hand up and down at Magnus. “But, for what it’s worth, I’m still willing to go a few rounds with whoever you wanted to get to extrajudicially torture me. Like, carrying or not, I’m pretty sure I can still take them.” 

Magnus sighed, and stomped away.  
  


* * *

  
Over the coming weeks, Magnus took great strides to keep the peace. He felt trapped between a rock and a hard place, between his duty to uphold the law while dealing with the competing desires of his fellow Autobots. Needless to say, Prowl was quite unhappy to find that their military elite prisoner could no longer be transferred to a more secure facility to be interrogated. Even less happy that Magnus arranged larger accommodations for him.

As such, Magnus went to great lengths to make sure Prowl never found out about the Fullstasis set he had placed in Sixshot’s cell. 

Magnus sat on a folding chair he brought, with his own portable Fullstasis set. On the other side of the forcefield, Sixshot was sitting in front of his own set, the pieces in the same placements as his own.

It had made sense, at some point, as Magnus had become the only person coming to question Sixshot, given that the rest of the Autobot command were less inclined to deal with his demeanor. And though he had never become more cooperative, Magnus found that he didn’t mind the visits with the Decepticon as much as he should. Maybe that was a bad sign, but, regardless, if he was going to visit the cell every day anyway, always walking away with no new information, they may as well occupy their time more productively.

After some consideration, Magnus decided on his next move. “Vig’s Prelate to Epsilon Five.” He moved the piece on his board, and looked over to Sixshot’s board to make sure he did the same.

Sixshot was leaning back in his chair, drumming his fingers over his abdomen. It had a noticeable bowing to it now, making the state he was in more obvious. He was slow to move, but eventually moved his piece from where it was to the space Magnus had indicated.

“Something the matter?” Magnus asked.

“Hmm?” Sixshot seemed thoughtful for a moment, before he shook his head. “No. I think I just miss when you used to come down here and yell at me. It’s too quiet now. Quarg’s Padwar to Alpha Three.”

Magnus moved the specified piece. “Sorry to bore you.”

Sixshot laughed. “Have the rest of the Autobots stopped hounding you to get information out of me?”

“Primus, no,” Magnus muttered. “If anything, it’s only gotten worse.” When he looked up, Sixshot was raising an optic ridge at him. “What?”

“So, then what happened to all that ranting and pacing and ‘I need answers out of you, Sixshot’?” He mimicked Magnus by shaking a finger in the air.

“Why? Would it work?”

Sixshot frown. “Well, there’s no fun if I just tell you.”

Magnus leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. “Look, to be honest with you, I’m less concerned about the strategic value of whatever information you have in your head. And maybe that means I’ve lost sight of my goals, but…” He shook his head. “Ever since you surrendered to me, I’ve just had one question, and I know you won’t answer it.”

The room fell silent for a moment between them. Sixshot’s hand returned to his abdomen as he looked resolutely away.

“Quarg’s Banneret to Beta Six,” Magnus said, moving his piece.

“It’s because I knew you were an honorable mech,” Sixshot said, still not looking at him.

Magnus blinked and looked up at him.

“Like you found out my first day here, I knew the law,” Sixshot said. “I knew you’d hold to it.”

“You knew you’d be safe here?”

Sixshot nodded.

“And that wasn’t true elsewhere?”

A tense chuckle cut out of Sixshot’s mouth. He finally looked at Magnus and shook a finger at him. “Now now, that’s a bit far, isn’t it?”

“It would make sense,” Magnus said. “And it’s about time something did.”

Sixshot sat up, looking at his board. “Where did you say that Banneret goes? Beta Seven?”

“Six.” Magnus frowned at him. “Don’t tell me you’re done opening up.”

Sixshot moved the piece. “You’ve got me in Halfstasis,” he said.

“Sixshot.”

He sighed, looking up at Magnus again. “What? You think carrying is an ideal state for a warrior elite?”

“Certainly you’re not saying…”

Sixshot waved a hand, cutting him off. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

Magnus frowned.

“Quarg takes Vig’s Prelate,” Sixshot said.

“But that opens you up to…”

Sixshot shot him a glare. “I was going out anyway. Just wanted to draw some blood on the way out.”

“Is that what you’re doing now?” Magnus said, narrowing his eyes.

Sixshot ignored him, grabbing Magnus’s Quarg to knock over his own Vig, completing the Fullstasis before Magnus could say anything. “Not everything is a metaphor, Magnus. Shut up.”  
  


* * *

  
Magnus stared up at the ceiling of his quarters. He should be recharging, but he was having a hard time of it. Not that recharge typically came easily in such an unraveling time of war. He could have blamed his unrest on any number of reasons.

Unfortunately, Magnus was unskilled at lying, even to himself.

Before he could fully rationalize it, he had rolled out of his berth and was already well out into the corridor. He stood in front of the door to the brig, silently disarming Ratchet’s medical lock out. He slipped in, counting himself lucky that no one had run into him on the way to question his judgment.

Well, lucky or unlucky. He would decide later.

Sixshot was sitting on the floor of his cell, legs bent around either side of his rounded abdomen, head buried between his knees and arms. As Magnus stepped closer, he heard a low growl from him, feral and desperate. 

“Get out.”

Magnus stood there, frowning. “I don’t intend to.”

Sixshot’s head moved, just enough for one optic to poke up, glaring at him. “Look, maybe you haven’t heard—”

“I have.” Of course Ratchet had told him that his regular visits would have to be postponed. Both for Sixshot’s safety and his own. The transfluid supplements were no longer keeping Sixshot’s increasing needs met — potentially due to some unknown mechanism of Phase Sixer anatomy — pushing Sixshot into a sort of heat.

Sixshot’s uncurled, leaning forward, still snarling like a caged animal. “Then what is it? Have you decided to use my condition to bargain with me? Try to get all those nasty secrets out of me that you’ve been dying for?”

Magnus tapped at the control panel, and in short order the force field dropped.

Sixshot’s eyes widened. “What is this?”

Magnus hunched down, not approaching him yet. “I doubt there’s much risk of you escaping, in this state.”

Sixshot growled.

“I’ve also locked the external door.”

“So you think that I can’t get through that?”

“It’s so no one else can get in.”

Sixshot paused, still glaring, but clearly more confused.

Magnus reached out a hand. “Let me help you.”

Sixshot backed away slightly. “I don’t think you’re willing to offer the kind of help I need.” 

Magnus smirked. “I’m not stupid, you know.” 

“Well, no offense, but you’re making me wonder…”

Magnus shuffled closer to him, careful to not move too suddenly. Sixshot remained frozen in place. “You’re not used to have others help you,” he said. “I understand the sentiment. However… it did end you up in an Autobot jail.” Magnus continued, even as Sixshot narrowed his eyes. “I know it might sounds foolish but… consider trusting someone. Trust me.” 

Sixshot looked at him, really looked, his unmasked gaze looking more feral by the moment. He struck forward, and for just a moment Magnus was afraid it was an attack. But in short order he found himself flat on his back, Sixshot straddling him while snarling. His hands were pinned on the ground above his head, and Sixshot’s face loomed over him. 

“Be careful what you ask for, Autobot,” Sixshot growled. 

“Please, Ultra Magnus is fine,” he said. 

Sixshot said nothing to that, dipping his head down to nibble at Magnus’s neck cabling. In truth, nibbling was far too tame a word for it, his movements desperate and dangerous, Magnus feeling that any moment the line could be crossed and his vital fluids splattered across the ground. Yet still he moaned, feeling the wave of fear and pleasure wash through his body in equal measure, bucking his body against Sixshot’s. He felt the great mound of Sixshot’s abdomen pressing into him, but no means a fragile thing, like everything about Sixshot himself, and he seemed unbothered by Magnus’s bucking. 

Quite the opposite, Magnus caught Sixshot’s grin in his periphery as finally he pulled away from his assault on Magnus’s neck, so he was easily able to identify the playful tone when he growled, “Stop moving and open up, _Autobot_.” 

Magnus blinked slowly, giving him a hard look. “Make me.”

Sixshot grinned, shifting his weight so that his pelvis could grind directly onto Magnus’s panel. “Silly me, I thought that’s what I was doing.” 

He loosened his grip on Magnus’s wrists just slightly, to help re-balance himself in his new position — needing the extra help with his new weight distribution. Magnus decided to test the limits of their game, pulling a hand free, and coping a feel of Sixshot’s abdomen. He was quickly caught, Sixshot grinning as he tightened his grip on his wrist. 

“Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach,” Sixshot said, grinning widely. “Threats of pain, I bet you get that from my type all the time. But what if I order you?” he asked, punctuating his rhetorical question with a grind oh his pelvis. “Take advantage of your obedience and make you answer to a filthy Decepticon like me?” 

Magnus wasn’t sure when Sixshot’s panel had opened, but he became aware of the leaking of lubricant over his own panel. He moaned, bucking up at Sixshot once more.

Sixshot grinned. “Now, open up, _Enforcer_.” 

Magnus shuttered and complied, his spike pressurizing before his modesty panel had even fully retracted. Sixshot was grinning, rubbing his aft against the newly exposed member, toying at it. But ultimately, he was here to claim his prize. He pushed himself up — not without some difficulty — and Magnus angled himself to help orient. Sixshot teased the tip of Magnus’s spike just at the entrance of his valve, wetting as well as getting the alignment just so, before slamming down, fully sheathing Magnus within him. 

Magnus felt like his optics went fuzzy as Sixshot had his way, his valve pulsing and milking him. When his vision returned, all he could do was look up, near helpless, fully at Sixshot’s mercy. Sixshot was a glorious sight, riding him to his own release, seeming to have lost the plot of their threatening play. Magnus bent his knees to give Sixshot a more solid support, and he capitalised on it, leaning back to brace them with his hands allowing him to arch his back, rounding out his swollen abdomen even further. 

Magnus found he was unable to hold out any longer, especially when Sixshot met his gaze, no longer snarling in heat or anger, but instead giving him a plain, open look, vulnerable and needing. Without another thought, he gave into the feeling, and let his body release, helpless to Sixshot’s whims.  
  


* * *

  
Despite everything, somehow cuddling with Sixshot was a stranger prospect than anything else. Yet, Magnus felt nothing but calm, even with a Phase Sixer’s helm resting on his chest. One arm was wormed behind his back, and in return Magnus had an arm wrapped around him, one hand resting on the side of his abdomen. 

“It started out something like this,” Sixshot said. “The heat…”

Magnus frowned. “Heat?”

“Nasty thing, being a beastformer,” Sixshot said. “Or at least a sixth of one, I suppose. Enough.”

Magnus tried to look at him, but their close angle made it hard to get a full view of his expression. “So, you went into heat, and as a result…”

“Had the bad luck of it happening while I was called in to meet with the rest of the elite. Can you imagine? I spend ninety percent of my time holed up in some deep space corner, where I can just bury my head in my berth and forget about the world when this happens, and then one time I just get the timing all wrong…”

Magnus’s eyes widened. “You’re not saying they—”

He was cut off when Sixshot smushed a hand into his face. “Oh, stop it! Stop being all concerned, it’s creeping me out!” He huffed and returned to his place on Magnus’s chest. “Don’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities, but the warrior elite getting it on isn’t exactly weird. Hell, half of high command is fragging each other anyway.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say that’s an altogether foreign concept.” Magnus tried to look away as Sixshot tilted his head to shoot him a smug look. 

“But, anyway,” Magnus continued, “if it was all consensual, then why…” His hand brushed over Sixshot’s side, fingertips just reaching his domed abdominal panels. 

Sixshot fell silent at that, though he squirmed closer to Magnus’s touch. “Don’t get all savior-y on me when I say this, but. I didn’t see any other choice to avoid him… just becoming another me.”

Magnus continued stroking his side. “I mean, I would thank you for not contributing another six mode enemy to your ranks, but…”

Sixshot laughed. “I mean, I don’t see the problem there.” The jovial tone was short-lived though, and he sighed. “It’s not that though. Let’s be honest, to the Decepticon cause, I’m just a tool. A means to an end. When they need me, they take me out of the toolbox. When they don’t need me, I sit and wait.” He paused, settling a hand over his domed abdomen. “For him… I wanted him to have a life. A real one.”

“Not that I’m arguing, but… why the Autobots then?”

“What? You think I could just drop him off on some neutral planet? With a little note that says ‘please don’t let the big bad bots take him and turn him into a war machine’?” Sixshot shook his head. “No, I knew the only way to keep him out of Decepticon hands for good was to get him to the Autobots.”

“What assurance do you have that the Autobots won’t do the same?” 

Sixshot tilted his head, catching Magnus’s optics with his own. “Guess I don’t, really. Just figured, if there was even the slightest chance of something better…” His hand rubbed up Magnus’s chestplate, over his spark, and Magnus met him there with his own hand, interlacing their fingers. “Don’t suppose you ever thought about adopting a charity case sparkling, huh?” 

“Me?” Magnus choked out, and just barely stopped himself from laughing. “Primus, no.” He shook his head. “Besides, I wouldn’t think you’d need help with…” There was a long pause, tension growing as Sixshot said nothing, curling in closer to Magnus’s chest. “You don’t intend to stay, do you?” 

“What, you think one frag and I’m going to spill my whole plan?” 

“No,” Magnus said. “But it’s true, isn’t it? You only surrendered so that _he_ would end up with us. You don’t intend to stay yourself.” 

“Even if I did, I’d just end up in Garrus, right?” Sixshot muttered. “That’s where I was heading before you found out, and that’s where I’ll end up afterwards if the rest of the Autobot brass get their way.” He tilted his head up at Magnus. “Don’t bother telling me I’m wrong, because I know I’m not.” He teased Magnus’s hand with his fingers. “So, don’t sit around and play pretend with me. One way or another, the kid and I? We’re going separate ways. Either I end up in prison, or…” 

Magnus clenched his jaw as he mulled that over, trying to think of something to say. “So, you’d just go back to those that would use you as their tool?” 

“Are you saying the Autobots would be better?” 

As much as he tried, Magnus found he had little to say to that.  
  


* * *

  
“Sixshot?” 

Magnus walked in to find Sixshot squatting at the edge of his berth, face buried in his arms. He tried to get a better look at what was going on, and quickly disable the forcefield. 

“Don’t you dare call Ratchet,” Sixshot growled from his position, hand gripping the berth.

Magnus squinted at him. “Are you…” 

As if in confirmation, Sixshot’s whole body seemed to convulse, and he let out a grunt as his lower body tensed. Magnus came up behind him, placing a hand on his back. Sixshot jumped at first, but relaxed as Magnus began running his hand over his spinal strut, massaging the undoubtedly aching frame. 

“I can’t believe you,” Magnus grumbled, even as Sixshot’s groans became less pained, and more pleasured by the pain relief Magnus’s massage offered. “You have a direct line to Ratchet exactly for this purpose.” 

“Hey, what part of ‘don’t call Ratchet’ did I stutter on?” Sixshot asked. He was leaning back into Magnus’s hands now, greedily chasing whatever comfort they could offer. 

“Which simply begs the question: why not?” 

Sixshot groaned again, leaning back until his backstrut rested against Magnus’s chest. He grabbed for Magnus’s arms as the contraction ripped through him. Magnus, somewhat reluctantly, met him halfway, grabbing his hands to be clenched throughout the process. 

“Because I don’t need,” Sixshot began, quickly cut off by the pain intensifying. “Your stupid,” he grunted, “Autobot doctor.” 

Magnus frowned. “How long has this been going?” 

Sixshot panted deeply for a few moments. “Well, see…” He was once again cut off with a grunt. 

Magnus pushed him to shift his weight back to the berth, and moved his hand to inspect his valve, though not without some hesitance. 

“No need to be sheepish now,” Sixshot said. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t been all up in there before.” 

Magnus ignored that, and pushed his fingers into the open valve to see if he could ascertain how dilated Sixshot was. 

Instead, he found himself touching a helm. 

“Sixshot!” 

“The answer is ‘a while,’ alright?” 

Magnus grumbled, and manhandled him into a better position, so he could at least see what was going on. 

To his surprise, Sixshot laughed. 

Magnus glared, raising an optic ridge. 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m in a lot of pain right now,” Sixshot said. “But oh, oh it all almost seems worth it to see that kind of panicked look on the face of the Duly Appointed Enforcer.” Magnus was set to growl out a reply before Sixshot groaned again, a deep, guttural noise. With this more exposed angle now, Magnus could see his abdominal plates constricting, could see the distension moving, especially as it bowed out panels closer to his crotch, forcing them to make room for the — quite likely large — mass making its way out. And indeed, soon the helm was beginning to poke out from the valve, stretching it far wider than seemed possible. 

Magnus wasn’t sure whether to be amazed or horrified. 

“You have a steady hand for catching slippery things, right?” Sixshot asked, an exhausted smirk on his face. 

“Shut up!” 

He laughed all the way up to the moment he pushed again, the helm slipping free. Magnus hardly had time to marvel at how large it seemed, before, sure enough, it slipped entirely out with a determined grunt from Sixshot. 

Magnus proved himself proficient at catching after all.  
  


* * *

  
Magnus wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, in a haze, as he held the new creator, cradling his sparkling in his arms. The typical lumpiness of the sparkling was already starting to sort itself, kibble slowly taking shape, and nanites beginning to bloom with color. Magnus wondered if the pink on it would stay, or if it would continue developing into a darker red. 

“Quickswitch, huh?” Magnus asked. 

Sixshot nodded. “Seems appropriate… If he’s anything like me, or honestly any of the possible sires.” He sighed, settling his head against Magnus’s shoulder. “If you could just pass that along to whoever… you know, ends up…” 

Magnus nodded, not forcing him to finish the sentiment. “So?” 

“Yeah, I’m just about ready,” Sixshot whispered. 

“That sounds like a lie.” 

Sixshot shrugged. “Maybe it is… But, I’ve been hurt worse and ripped my way through more security at the same time. Not an issue. You’ll be fine, right?” 

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Yes, I doubt anyone could find any fault with me being caught off guard by a parturient mech knocking me out. My reputation may never recover, but… Stop pretending to worry about me.” 

He smirked, looking up at him. “Never said I was pretending.” 

Magnus held his gaze, far longer than he felt he should. “You don’t have to—” 

“You know I do,” Sixshot said, quietly. 

Magnus sighed, and nodded. “Right. Of course.” 

“Hey.” Sixshot reached up, with his free hand, pulling at Magnus’s collar fairings. “Keep an eye on him for me, would you? Check in from time to time?” He pulled Magnus down, kissing his lips softly. 

Magnus nodded, breaking away from the kiss. “I’ll do my best.” 

With that, Sixshot caught him off guard with a headbutt that nearly knocked him clean out. Magnus slumped over onto the ground, his fritzing optics barely catching the motion of Sixshot gently tucking his sparkling into the berth, then making his way to the door. 

The last thing he saw was Sixshot blowing a kiss, before his optics finally faded to black.


End file.
